


Whumptober 2020 - 21 - I Don't Feel So Well

by DinerGuy



Series: Whumptober 2020 [4]
Category: Magnum P.I. (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Brothers, Dehydration, Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't feel so well, Kidnapped, Ohana, Suspense, Whump, Whumptober 2020, drugged, ill, sick, worried friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:49:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27143419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinerGuy/pseuds/DinerGuy
Summary: Rick's not sure where they are, but that concern is only second to the fact that Thomas is sick as a dog—and only getting worse.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1950892
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	Whumptober 2020 - 21 - I Don't Feel So Well

The angle of his arms behind him wrenched at his shoulders as he knelt, but that discomfort was nothing compared to the feeling of his empty gut wringing itself inside out.

His muscles spasmed as he hunched over, another almost-silent gag bringing little but stomach acid with it, forcing the acrid liquid to drip onto the tiled floor in front of him.

The retching stopped as suddenly as it had come, and Magnum sagged back. He slowly and haltingly dropped back to a sitting position and then nearly collapsed against the wall behind him, bringing his feet around to draw his knees up in front of him.

He was breathing heavily, his chest hitching as his body tried to make up for the lack of air while everything inside of him was forcing itself out. His stomach ached painfully, the muscles in his abdomen protesting the heavy work they'd just been subjected to for the fourth time in… ten minutes? Magnum wasn't exactly sure of time any longer. He was usually able to track the passage of time at least pretty close to accurately, but his current circumstances were more than a little disorienting.

He wanted to wrap his arms around himself and curl up into a ball to relieve at least some of the pain, but the tightly wound ropes pinning his wrists together at a painful angle made that impossible. The best he could do was draw his knees up to his chest and hunch his shoulders ever so slightly to try to relieve the pressure.

"Hey." A quiet voice reached him past the way his pulse was roaring in his ears.

Something in the back of Magnum's head wondered if the voice had been talking to him over the past few minutes while his stomach had been expelling every scrap of its contents. He had a nagging feeling it had, but this was the first time it had actually registered with him.

Magnum turned his head a little too quickly and had to squeeze his eyes shut at the way the room tilted and spun around him. The roiling in his gut was back, and he desperately needed to avoid triggering another bout of dry-heaving.

"Hey, Tommy. Come on. Breathe." Rick's voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere far away.

Magnum tried to focus on the other man's words as he swallowed against the ever-growing nausea that just wouldn't leave him alone. Eyes still closed, he took a shallow shaky breath.

"That's it. In and out," Rick continued. "In and out. Stay with me. You got this."

His subconscious started following the slow instructions even before his mind registered what Rick wanted him to do. The uneasiness in his stomach slowly subsided as his breathing evened out, and Magnum finally felt like it was safe enough to look up slowly.

"You good?" Rick asked as their eyes met.

Magnum groaned in response, not daring to bring himself to shake his head. "Been better," he said, his eyes closing briefly before he looked back at Rick.

"Yeah," Rick replied wryly. "You can say that again." He shrugged, and Magnum realized his friend's wrists were also restrained.

Feeling the tiniest bit confident his stomach wasn't about to rebel again, Magnum took another slow breath and glanced around the room. He hadn't had much of a chance to study it previously, and what little he had seen when he'd come to had been quickly overshadowed by his becoming violently ill.

It was small, maybe ten feet square, and dim. One dirty window high up on the far wall let in the daylight that was the only source of illumination, but not much light made it through the grungy panes. The rest of the empty room and unfinished walls and floor didn't tell him much else besides that, wherever they were, it was probably somewhere out of the way.

The place was also stifling. Magnum could feel the sweat beading on his brow and soaking his shirt, and he knew the exertion of being sick was only partially to blame. There was no circulation, not even a slight draft, and the heat was making the air in the room weigh heavily on the two prisoners.

"Where are we?" he asked quietly, wincing at the way the words aggravated his sore throat.

Rick just sighed and gave him an apologetic look. "I wish I knew, but I woke up just a few minutes before you."

Another wave of nausea rolled over Magnum just then. He shut his eyes again, breathed through his nose, and willed it to go away. The warm air wasn't doing anything to help his stomach, and the last thing he needed was to be sick  _ again.  _ There couldn't be anything left for his stomach to expel, and just the thought of dry-heaving for an indeterminate amount of time was enough to make him want to throw up. He clenched his jaw and tried to will his stomach to settle.

The last thing he remembered was meeting Rick at La Mariana. They were planning to head out to their favorite surf spot and spend the day catching waves before Rick had to be back at the bar for the evening. Magnum had pulled behind the building to park, spotted Rick struggling with two assailants, and run to help—only to feel someone grab him from behind and jab something sharp into his neck. It had all happened so fast, and Magnum vaguely remembered whirling around to fend off his attacker before everything had gone fuzzy and he'd collapsed to the ground.

"Who were those guys?" he asked, coughing slightly at the way the words rubbed at his sore throat and trusting Rick to know who he meant.

Rick shook his head. "Beats me. Never saw 'em before in my life." He made a face. "They said something about someone wanting to talk, but we didn't really have a chance to chat."

Before Magnum could voice his next question, the sickening, rolling sensation in his gut returned with a vengeance.  _ 'Not again,'  _ he thought. He barely had time to sit up before he had to lean over to avoid being sick all over himself. In seconds, he was choking on what felt like his stomach turning itself inside out.

He could feel the tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes as everything around him went blurry and gray, and he was soon gasping for breath again in between the heaves that just kept coming…

* * *

The black sports car whipped around the bend in the road, the driver barely slowing and then speeding up even faster as the road straightened out again.

T.C. glanced over at Higgins clenching the wheel, her attention firmly fixed on the road ahead. If the reckless driving didn't give it away, her tight jaw and deadly serious expression told him just how worried she actually was. It wasn't hard to guess what she was thinking; their missing friends were the only thing on either of their minds.

No one was even sure if the lead T.C. and Higgins were currently following would pan out. When Katsumoto had called to let them know something had happened, T.C. and Higgins had immediately sprung into action. They'd been together at the time, T.C. having just given a tour to two of Robin's friends vacationing in Oahu and Higgins having gone along as she knew the older couple well. Higgins' phone had chimed as T.C. was running through his post-flight checklist after they'd waved off their guests.

La Mariana's back door had been found ajar when employees had arrived to prep for opening. Someone, most likely the same person responsible for whatever had happened to the missing men, had destroyed the security camera near the doorway, and both the Ferrari and Rick's Porsche were in the back lot. When the HPD team processing the scene had found a pair of sunglasses Katsumoto had recognized as Magnum's, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that something had gone down behind the bar.

It took a fraction of the normal time for T.C. and Higgins to reach the bar from Island Hoppers. Higgins had offered to drive, and T.C. hadn't turned her down; Robin's car would go much faster than T.C.'s company van, and time was of the essence. He'd wondered when she'd pulled up that morning why she wasn't in the Land Rover she normally drove, but now he didn't care; he was just grateful for the speed of the sports car.

Between HPD and the strings Higgins was able to pull, they'd soon had a list of possible suspects. One of the names was connected to a wealthy businessman, William Milford, who had suspected ties to organized crime. Katsumoto and Higgins had immediately recognized the man's name from reputation. Higgins also knew it because Magnum had just talked to him the day before while following a lead on one of their current cases. Higgins had been busy with legwork on another case, so Rick had accompanied Magnum on the errand.

Milford himself couldn't be placed at the bar that afternoon, but a vehicle owned by one of the men in his employ had been captured on a traffic camera near La Mariana, traveling significantly over the speed limit.

And that was why T.C. and Higgins were now speeding down the road toward one of Milford's more isolated properties. The man was extremely wealthy and owned multiple homes and tracts of land on the islands. Using the process of elimination and one of Higgins' programs she would never admit to law enforcement she had access to, they had concluded one particular property, located in the same direction from the bar as the car caught on camera had been traveling, was the most likely candidate. It was still a long shot, but it was the best shot they had.

T.C. double-checked the pistol in his hand as Higgins turned onto a gravel driveway. There was no telling what they were going to find, and he was determined to be ready for anything.

His brothers were counting on him.

* * *

Rick watched his friend from across the room, his stomach twisting in sympathy as Thomas continued to retch, leaning as far as he could with his hands tied behind his back.

Although Rick wished he could do something to help, they'd been dumped in their stifling prison without resources. Even if he'd been able to free himself, there was nothing he  _ could  _ do. There was no water or towels; in fact, the place was completely empty besides the piles of dirt in the corners of the room.

He wasn't even sure what was making his friend so sick. Rick was fairly certain a concussion wasn't to blame; he'd seen the man who'd grabbed Thomas at La Mariana stick a syringe in Thomas's neck, just before Rick had felt a prick in his own neck. But Rick wasn't sick to his stomach—a little fatigued, sure, but not violently ill. The only thing that made any sense was if Thomas was having a reaction of some sort to the drugs… but Rick was a sniper, not a doctor, and his head was currently pounding, so that was as far as he could take that line of reasoning at the moment.

The sounds of dry heaving slowly faded, and Rick saw his friend lean back against the wall, clearly exhausted. His eyes were closed, and he was breathing heavily; sweat soaked his face and shirt, and Rick could tell he was even paler than he had been moments before.

Rick swallowed. He needed to do  _ something. _ Thomas needed medical help, and Rick wasn't sure how much longer his friend would be able to keep going without it. By Rick's count, his friend had already thrown up five times, and that, combined with the heat of their small, hot prison, spelled trouble in the form of severe dehydration and nutrient deficiency.

They needed a way out, Rick knew, but that was much easier said than done. He'd already tried to stand once to explore the possibility of forcing the door open, but he hadn't made it very far before he'd had to lower himself back to the floor. The change in altitude had sent his head spinning, and he'd had to sit down before he collapsed, eliminating the possibility of escape for the time being.

He just hoped their friends knew they were missing and were looking for them. That was the only way Rick could see out of their current predicament—hopefully before their captors came back. Rick wasn't sure what the men wanted, but it couldn't be anything good.

His headache still pounding at his temples, Rick closed his eyes and took a breath. He just needed a few minutes, and then he'd figure out what to do next.

* * *

Higgins threw the car into park and reached over to open the glove compartment. T.C. was already out of the passenger seat, and she caught sight of him tucking his silver pistol into his waistband as he closed the door behind him.

She retrieved her own gun, smaller and more compact, and concealed it as T.C. had his. Whatever they were about to walk into, Magnum and Rick might be inside—and if not, someone who was there might have information regarding their whereabouts—and there was no telling what might unfold. And besides the possible need for defense, Higgins was also not beyond… persuading people to talk when necessary. The weapons would come in handy for either purpose.

Climbing out of the car, she pocketed the keys and headed for the front door of the small grey house sitting back from the road. The gravel drive ended at a short flight of steps up to the small porch, but no vehicles were in sight.

She glanced around as they walked up the steps, noticing the neighborhood seemed quiet and peaceful. Most of the homes had well-kept lawns, a few with flags flying from their porches and some with children's toys in the yards. There were no neighbors out, she noted with disappointment; there was no one to question if Milford's house turned out to be empty.

T.C. was right behind her as they mounted the steps, and Higgins rang the bell. They could hear the chime echo throughout the house, but no answering sound met their ears. After waiting a moment, Higgins knocked on the door. When there was still no answer, T.C. banged on it heavily with the side of his fist, then stepped back and sighed.

"I'll go check around back," he offered.

Higgins nodded in acknowledgement and cast a glance around before reaching into her pocket to pull out her lockpicks. She knew they would be in trouble if caught trespassing. The excuse that she was a P.I. wouldn't get them very far if charged with breaking and entering; neither she nor T.C. had any legal right to go inside. But that didn't matter. Their friends could be in serious danger, and Higgins was willing to do whatever was needed to make sure Magnum and Rick were safe. There was every chance the missing men were somewhere on the property, and she wasn't about to turn around and leave just because no one came to the door.

No one was in sight, and Higgins set to work on the lock. It didn't take long before she was rewarded with the sound of tumblers clicking into place. With another furtive look around, she swung the door open, tucked the small black case back into her pocket, and stepped into the dim interior of the house. She quietly closed the door behind her and surveyed the entryway.

The place was small, which matched what she'd seen when they'd pulled in. From where she was standing, she could see straight through to the back of the house, and she saw T.C. peering through the sliding glass door. Quickly crossing the space, her sandals tapping quietly on the tile floor, Higgins let T.C. inside.

"Anything?" she asked, to which he responded by shaking his head. Higgins sighed and glanced around the vacant house.

The place was tiny, dusty, and devoid of any furnishings. It appeared anyone who had been there had cleared out long ago. She didn't have to point out it wouldn't take them long to search the entire premises.

T.C. tilted his head. "I'll go left; you go right?" he suggested.

Higgins nodded, and they split up to search the house.

* * *

Rick wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed, but he knew he couldn't wait any longer. The more time that went by, the closer they were to their captors coming back, and Thomas needed help.

Which meant Rick needed to find a way out of wherever they were.

Thomas had already thrown up once more and was looking more drained as time went on. Even though Rick had tried engaging his friend in conversation to keep him awake, he could see how the exhaustion was taking hold of Thomas. The other man could barely keep his eyes open and shivering heavily at the same time as his clothes and face grew more soaked with sweat.

The scene brought back memories of another time and place far away from Hawaii, and Rick shook his head to banish the images. He didn't have time to dwell on the past, not right then. There were more urgent matters at hand, like escaping.

Taking a deep breath, he gritted his teeth and leaned back. His bound hands were of no real use in trying to stand, and so, using the wall as leverage, he slowly pushed up and slid into a standing position. He was breathing heavily by the time he was finally upright, his head pounding and his own sweat-soaked shirt even damper, but he was on his feet.

He looked over at the door as he caught his breath. "Here goes nothing," he muttered.

Crossing the small room, Rick turned around so the door was behind him and reached up to try the knob. He grimaced at the movement, and his frown deepened when the door turned out to be locked. It wasn't surprising, though; he'd expected as much. He'd just wanted to give it a try, however unlikely it was the door would've been left open, just in case.

Rick clenched his jaw, knowing his next move was going to hurt but also knowing he had no other choice. The wooden door wasn't the sturdiest he'd ever seen, and he was fairly sure he could force it open. Their captors either hadn't thought things through or had just assumed he wouldn't be able to try. Either way, Rick supposed he  _ should  _ be grateful; he could always be looking at something other than a flimsy interior door.

His head was still pounding, and Rick had to take a moment to steady himself. There was also a persistent pain in his lower back, but he couldn't stop to think about that at the moment. He had to get Thomas help, and then he could worry about whatever was wrong with him. It was just like any of the missions he'd been on before; make sure his buddies were okay and then take care of himself.

Taking a deep breath, Rick stepped back, then rammed his shoulder into the door. 

Or rather, he  _ would have  _ rammed his shoulder into the door if someone hadn't opened it at just that moment.

"Whoa, Rick!" Large hands caught him as he stumbled over the threshold, his momentum carrying him forward.

Rick blinked up to see T.C. watching him worriedly.

"You okay, man?" T.C. asked, not letting go. He was looking Rick up and down as if searching for any sign his friend was or wasn't okay.

Rick's thoughts were more sluggish than he would've liked, and it took him a moment to formulate an answer. He briefly caught sight of Higgins rushing past him and T.C. into the room where Thomas—

"Thomas!" he exclaimed hoarsely, looking up at T.C. again, this time with wider eyes and an urgency that he felt deep in his chest.

T.C.'s hands remained on Rick's arms as he looked past the shorter man to glance into the small, hot room. "It's okay. Higgy's helping him. Here, sit down." His tone left no room for argument.

Although, as much as Rick wanted to argue anyway, his legs seemed to decide it was the perfect time to give out on him now that help had arrived. He somewhat suddenly found himself sitting on the floor, leaning back against one of the walls of what had turned out to be a narrow hallway.

T.C. tugged him forward slightly, and Rick felt pressure on the ropes around his wrists before they loosened and fell off. He let his gaze drift downward and noticed the knife T.C. was folding up to tuck back in his pocket.

"Hey, you okay?" T.C. had noticed Rick watching him.

There were sirens from somewhere far off as Rick slowly swallowed. He contemplated nodding but then thought better of it—and not just because his head wouldn't appreciate the motion. "I… maybe," he amended. He was better than Thomas, but he was starting to doubt how much more the longer he sat still.

A hand patted him gently on the shoulder as T.C.'s voice met Rick's ears.

"That's okay, brother. Just rest."

Jules was saying something now, but Rick didn't bother looking her way. If their friends were there now, everything was going to be all right.


End file.
